


Celebrity Crush

by toxicbolts



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (only mentioned), Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Canon-Typical Violence, Cats, Celebrity Crush, Character Study, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza dynamics, F/F, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxicbolts/pseuds/toxicbolts
Summary: Brigitte cannot say she is exactly happy about Reinhardt rejoining Overwatch. Until she realises it has its perks.





	Celebrity Crush

Brigitte cannot say she is exactly happy about Reinhardt rejoining Overwatch.

Of course, she can understand her godfather’s desire to help others. Make the world a better place. Live with honor, die with glory. She grew up with his stories, talking about difficult battles, about becoming a better person, about protecting, and about being protected. Pappa used to roll his eyes, not so secretly enjoying Reinhardt’s stories, gently scolding his best friend about filling his daughter’s head with foolish ideas. He was kind of right, but Brigitte, luckily or sadly, realised that someone would have to protect Reinhardt from himself, and his ideals, sooner or later.

And so, a protector she became, sooner than her parents would have liked.

She saw him getting hurt during his fight against the Dragons. Twice. Brigitte grew up among wires and machinery, gears and shields, so of course she knew how to fix his armor. But nothing else, and it was eating her alive.

She was with him in Eichenwalde, when the recall happened, Winston’s voice nervously asking the old Overwatch members to rejoin the battle. She had panicked, sadness in Reinhardt’s eyes as he remembered the cruel battle. The battle that changed his life.

Brigitte grew up with that particular story bugging her, Reinhardt’s voice still shaking with pain and sadness as he recalled Balderich dying in battle not too long after Reinhardt himself losing his eye, softly speaking about his own foolishness, about his young days when he did not know better and thought war was a game to be won. Brigitte knows better than to listen when Reinhardt’s voice is not loud and boisterous, those delicate moments in which his godfather shows his delicate self to her. His regrets.

So, she does try to stop him. Reminds him about how Overwatch discarded him when they thought he was too old to serve. How his father was so generally blamed for the Omnic Crisis, as if he could have anticipated anything that happened back then. Brigitte’s heart burns with rage, and confusion, because she understands, but does not want anyone dear to her getting hurt again.

“This is not your fight, Reinhardt.”

“I was called. I must answer.”

She knows the difference. It’s not that he wants to, it’s that he feels he has to. His pride and honor as a knight being more important in his head that some mere selfish desires. Brigitte has always admired his selflessness, but, sometimes, she wishes his sense of self-preservation was as big as the man himself, and his ideals.

She knows she cannot stop him. But she can, at least, go with him and make sure he is safe. Before it’s too late.

Of course, Mamma sighs through the phone, as if she knew the day would arrive sooner or later. “Motherly instinct”, as she likes to say. Pappa is the one to scold Reinhardt, again, but everyone respects her choice. She is an adult, and capable enough. Pappa always said she was a genius regarding defensive equipment, and, no matter how much she blushes and smiles like a fool at the thought, the truth is that she takes the praise with pride.

She trains. Day after day, week after week, month after month. She works on her own equipment, for the first time. It’s exciting to think about it, to think about herself as the protagonist of her own story now. Not just Reinhardt’s squire, but a whole hero herself. Reinhardt must be having a bad influence on her, because she has to correct her mindset a couple of times. Someone has to have common sense among the two of them, after all. And Reinhardt, old and tired and full of old-fashioned dreams, is not going to change anytime soon. Or ever.

She decides to get a mace to use herself. Less heavy than a hammer, and more versatile. Also less violent than his father’s guns and turrets. She makes a shield for herself, and tweaks his technique to provide armor and healing to others. She cannot heal as well as Angela does, but it’s good enough to keep the big guy safe. It’s similar to what her father does, but more focused on protecting others. She laughs as her cat fidgets with one of her screwdrivers, and smooches his nose, earning a whiny meow and a soft pat on her face. That’s all the encouragement she could ask for.

It’s months later when they arrive to Gibraltar, and a tiny, fast, and young brunette almost tackles Pappa and Reinhardt, almost crying of joy when she sees both of them. Winston, as big as Reinhardt, is indeed crying, while another woman with glasses, winterly attire, and a pretty round face, tries to help him calm down. There is an omnic that could pretty well be a Shambali, another man Brigitte cannot quite place as either a human or an omnic (but that, somehow, thinks that running naked in the middle of Gibraltar is a good idea), and a dark skinned cowboy wearing a worn-out poncho.

And that’s when she she sees her.

She supposes it’s easy to miss her, not very tall against a huge pink MEKA. Thinking about it, she may be just being clumsy, as it is, indeed, pretty difficult to miss a huge pink MEKA. Either way, she recognizes her a second too late, and she can feel her cheeks getting hotter and hotter, her hands shaking so much she almost drops her mace.

“Is… is that… is that D. Va?” she asks, her voice so quivery she feels like she is going to screech sooner or later. Her father and Reinhardt look at each other, and grin almost at the same time, as if sharing some sort of internal joke. She hates it.

She is a fan. Has been for a long time. Both Reinhardt and her watch D. Va’s streams during their free time, admiring her skills, her ability to react to danger, her dedication to protecting others while making them have a good time.

Nothing can compare to the real thing.  
Hana “D. Va” Song is chatting with a rather short young man, dressed in green clothes that seem to be more suitable for warmer climates. His warm smile makes her happier in a matter of seconds, as if it were magic. But she is really, REALLY paying more attention to Hana, to her warm and sharp dark eyes, her powerful posture; her perfect, long hair, and beautiful skin.

She hears Tracer, the cheery, short-haired woman’s giggle, and she knows she is doomed.

“Hana! Lúcio! Over here!”

Brigitte is too nervous to notice that the man is indeed Lúcio, one of her favorite musicians, and a freedom fighter everyone fighting for justice would admire. Because Hana is looking her way, and smiles with a confidence that makes her knees weak, while waving.

Brigitte hears her mace hitting the ground, her face redder than her hair, and knows, without a doubt, that the celebrity crush she had has become a full-blown crush, very real, and very, very embarrassing.

“Fan…” she mutters, as both Reinhardt and her father pat her back. Tracer, on the other hand, is still laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in half an hour or so. No proofreading. No beta. We die like idiots. I just wanted to write something for the brigva/mekamechanic week, because they deserve it, okay. They deserve it so much.


End file.
